Burn
by Eyeneversleep
Summary: Before Inception:Cobb and Arthur have to find a way to get Eames back after he is kidnapped. Arthur realizes and cant hide his true feelings only after it happens. A/E slash Cobb/Arthur friendship. M for language and future graphic scenes. Last chap is up
1. Chapter 1

He had those blowjob lips.

He couldn't get them out of his mind. They would curl up into a sarcastic grin or would smooth out completely when he was being contemplative-plump and full.

They were deliciously big and he imagined them not only brushing against his own-hell overtaking his but on all other parts of his body-devouring his skin.

It made him shudder and breakout in goose pimples at the thought.

And his eyes-a grayish blue that were calm yet seriously up to no good-Eames in a nutshell.

His ears, his jaw line, his strong hands, and his shoulders.

Arthur could go on for days.

After all this time they worked together in the warehouse and it was getting steadily worse.

Some days he contemplated running late just so that they could walk in together while catching him tucking in his gaudy shirt that he wore the day before, running a hand through his hair in a lame effort to tame it, throwing his morning cigarette to the pavement, watching him as he runs into the building-his ass in his ill fitting pants.

He realized he was daydreaming, tapping his pen rapidly against the stack of unattended papers on his shoddy desk. He wasn't getting any work done. He sighed hugely. He really had no idea how the intolerable man had invaded his thoughts so fiercely as of late, worming his way in and wrapping himself around the very curves of his brain. In actuality he really couldn't stand him at all and didn't understand him-two things Arthur couldn't put up with.

Everything had its place. Things had to be orderly and put together, to have a purpose. Eames had none of these and Arthur imagined he even prided himself on these "attributes".

He ran a hand through his perfect, slicked back hair; absentmindedly tucking the hair he knew wasn't there behind his ear. He hated the slight curl of his hair and always felt the need to tuck and smooth it-to keep it together.

Knowing he wasn't getting any work done he pushed the papers aside and decided he needed more coffee. It might keep the thoughts out and give him a buzz so he could plow through his work.

The warehouse was surprisingly empty and quiet. Hands on hips he looked around warily wondering where Cobb and Eames went. Was he the only one (trying) to do some work around here?

He pinched the corners of his eyes and stumbled to the coffee machine. Of course the pot was empty. He nearly threw his mug and screamed out in frustration-cursing Eames for taking the last of it and not making more. How many times did he have to be told? He was such a child.

Cobb breezed through suddenly only to mumble to him that he would be in his office making some phone calls and that they would go over the details of their newest job in a bit. He kept on walking as he said it, barely acknowledging Arthur, his eyes trained to some files.

Arthur just sighed again and grunted-letting him know he heard him.

This was by far one of the worst mornings he's had in a while and he was getting a headache.

He made more coffee contemplating putting up a sign that said it was his personal pot and the lot of them can go to hell if they didn't like it but scrapped it.

He got tired of listening to the slow drip, drumming his fingers on the table and decided to get some air. Everyone else seemed to be slacking off why couldn't he?

He pushed open the heavy sliding door. The warm sun met his skin and was immediately absorbed by his dark slacks and equally as dark waistcoat. He shielded his eyes and inhaled the smells of morning deeply. It was comforting and his headache seemed to wane that was until he smelled it.

"Oh for fuck sakes."

Eames peeped his face around the corner of the building, smoke curling up into the air from his nasty smelling cigarette.

He held up his hand to him in acknowledgment.

"Bad morning, luv?"

Eames had arrived two hours late and was all ready outside taking a smoke break. Somehow he was not surprised. He looked hung over-eyes slightly bloodshot and his clothes more rumpled than usual. Did he take anything seriously?

"You're an insufferable asshole you know that?" Arthur turned to leave opening the heavy door.

"And make some god damn coffee once in a while!" he shouted over his shoulder seeing a glimpse of Eames' face drawn up in surprise, ash dangling at the end of his cigarette threatening to spill over before he was stepping inside and shutting the door behind him as hard as he could. He contemplated locking it but didn't at the last second knowing it would only cause more problems and add to his all ready pounding headache.

Anger was coming off of him in rolls now. He stomped his way back to the coffee machine not even sure if he wanted it anymore-his mood totally spoiled.

He poured himself a cup anyway thinking he should have some because of the effort he put in and charged back to his desk, breezing past a smelly Eames in the process.

He sat down hard, too hard with his mug in hand and the scolding hot coffee spilled over splashing on his hand and dribbling on his papers.

The curse words he uttered were one long, loud thing, running together to form one big expletive.

In his anger and flaring pain radiating from his hand he kind of just stood there stunned, non believing what he just did, shaking and seeing red.

He was vaguely aware that Eames had gingerly picked up his coffee mug, wiping it up with paper towel and was wiping up the mess as well, whistling.

Arthur took a few deep breaths to try to calm down and sucked on his throbbing hand in a weak attempt to comfort it. He realized he was staring at Eames as he meticulously worked.

Eames was attempting to straighten his papers and was placing his mug back on the desk. He picked up a couple of the dripping sheets of paper.

Eames turned to him a slight smile on his big lips.

"You've done a doozy on these. No saving these, luv."

Arthur just nodded continuing to suck on his hand, now turning a little red from the burn. He had calmed down significantly.

Eames closed the gap between them and took him in with quiet interest pointing to his hand.

"C'mon, you need some bloody ice or something for that thing."

Arthur let him lead him to the bathroom. He wasn't sure why he was being so complacent. All he could think about was Eames' light touch on his back, his smell-musty, sweat, coffee, cigarettes, liquor, his cheap aftershave and the throbbing pain on his hand.

Eames took his arm carefully, heat flaring through his body at his close proximity and touch, turning on the cold water with his other hand and instructed him to run it under the water while he got some ice.

He hissed in pain as the icy cold water ran over the red blotchy area on his scorched skin.

Eames was turning to leave, whistling absentmindedly again.

"Wait. That's not necessary, it feels better all ready," he lied. He had put out his other hand reaching towards him to stop him.

Eames, hands deep in the pockets of his wrinkled pants twirled around, eyebrows slightly raised, his gorgeous lips still pursed together from whistling.

He took a couple steps towards him narrowing his eyes.

"You sure? It looked nasty, darling."

Arthur ran a thumb over the red, raised area, still holding it under the rushing water nodding his head realizing he was being stupid and rude.

He was glad for the pain it kept him from thinking the nasty thoughts about the other man that kept cropping up in his mind. When he got back to his desk he would keep his head down and work he decided. He would work well into the night and push away all distractions and Eames was definitely a big distraction. So why wasn't he yelling at him to get away or stop watching him?

He felt the other man's calm but curious eyes on him making him blush a little.

He needed but hated his attention.

He shut the water off, hands dripping wet. Eames pumped the paper towel machine and handed some to him, keeping his eyes lowered.

"Thanks," Arthur mumbled. He knew he owed Eames an apology for his outburst earlier but he knew he wouldn't want to hear it.

They both had established a repoire of sorts one where they bantered and got on each other's nerves easily. Eames making obvious passes at him, Arthur getting spitting mad at first but then just letting them roll off his back accepting that that was just Eames being Eames. It was his other habits that got to him-he was messy, constantly late, he was always mumbling to himself, whistling or humming, and he talked louder than necessary-wanting attention. His jokes were wildly inappropriate or Arthur just didn't understand them- his British humor eluding him. He was always trying to distract him too-sitting on the corner of his desk, tossing paper clips at him until he told him off.

He was a child but he had to admit that through his shortcomings he was damn good at what he did, being a forger, and he knew it.

"What's got you so hot and bothered this fine morning?" His eyes sweeping to his hurt hand before resting on his face a second later. "Pun intended," he laughed lightly. He was leaning up against the sink sloppily his eyes roaming over him completely now. Arthur felt his skin flush at his intense look.

Arthur exhaled through tightly closed lips. "Nothing," he wrapped the paper towel around his hand, lowering his gaze.

"Sure didn't seem like nothing. You were positively fuming, luv."

He could tell from his peripheral vision that he was reaching out to touch him but Arthur moved out of the way, sidestepping him.

"Don't," he said under his breath, probably a little too harshly.

He had his eyes to the floor but when he didn't hear Eames shoot him another snarky remark he looked up. He wasn't expecting Eames to look hurt. His beautiful lips slightly pouting, shoulders slumped and eyes lowered.

"Right. See you later at the meeting then," he said way too hurriedly. He jammed his big hands into his pockets and slouched out of the room.

Arthur was stunned and a jumble of emotions but mostly was mad at himself. Eames was just trying to help in an attempt to apologize for grating on his nerves which Arthur realized was stupid to begin with-he did nothing wrong-he was only in Arthur's path of rage.

He stood in the bathroom for a while looking around bewildered feeling his hand throb. Half thinking he should charge right up to him to apologize not caring if he didn't want to hear it and half thinking of slinking back to his desk and do what he set out to do before-get some god damn work done. He decided on the later.

Arthur slinked out of the bathroom, reaching his desk as quietly as he could only peeping up from keeping his eyes trained the floor to see Eames sitting in the far corner, ankle at his knee, eyebrows furrowed, brooding over a file. He knew damn well that he wasn't really reading it; he was just trying to avoid Arthur. The man never sat still and he most certainly avoided doing any actual work.

Eames avoided looking at him all the rest of day even as they gathered together to discuss the extraction job they were working on-only speaking to him directly when he needed to ask a question, scribbling incoherent notes down with his horrible handwriting.

Once they adjourned he went right back to his corner and feigned working again saying he was planning out his routes to tail the mark.

Arthur just sighed heavily and tried to keep his focus on his own work failing miserably. He could only think of Eames' sad eyes and lowered gaze as he snapped at him after he was showing him a kindness. He was mad at himself for caring too-it was a vicious cycle-guilt turning into anger over and over again.

He had gotten absolutely nothing accomplished-only successfully hurting himself physically and emotionally.

He was caught in a daydream when he heard a PLOP on his desk and saw a file folder in front of him. Eames mumbled some instructions on what he would be doing tomorrow to tail the mark and turned away suddenly, quickly-all business finished.

"Wait, Eames."

Eames turned around, unlit cigarette all ready dangling from his mouth, coat half put on.

He didn't look in the least bit pleased.

"I'm in a rush to be off, darling," it was curt, clipped.

Eames had never denied him anything before. He had never treated him in this way. Usually he would laugh off Arthur's protests, being shot down or him saying "No" but would always come back and give him his full attention but now…

This brought up Arthur short, heart racing and he was helpless to find his words. He studied his feet, struggling for what he wanted to say.

Just as Arthur muttered: "Eames I'm sorry for earlier," he glanced up and saw the door closing shut, Eames for once hadn't waited for him. He was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur found himself at the bar after that-wanting to drown his sorrows.

The whole thing seemed absolutely ridiculous. Why should he care if Eames brushed him off or not? In fact he should be happy but he was anything but.

He was thinking of switching from his French wine to harder alcohol maybe whiskey when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up and he flashed him a knowing smile drawing up a bar stool next to him.

"What are you drinking?" Cobb motioned to his empty glass.

Arthur wasn't really surprised he was there. Him and Cobb had come to this bar before and it wasn't too far from the warehouse.

Arthur smirked studying his folded hands on the bar. "Something to get me very drunk."

"That bad?" Cobb motioned to the bartender to get his attention.

Arthur nodded not wanting to get into it with him. Cobb could be a good listener but Arthur wasn't even sure himself why he was so upset. He really didn't feel like analyzing it. He wanted to get lost in his drink.

He enjoyed his silent companionship. Cobb didn't have as much time for him these days because of his other responsibilities with his children and Cobb was a man of few words but what he did say was profound. Arthur looked up to him though they fought just like brothers-butting heads on how they thought things should be done. Cobb trusted him though and after working together for over 5 years they could work independently knowing what the other needed before it was even asked or spoken. They made a good team.

Architects, forgers (though Eames stuck around a bit longer than what they expected) and chemists came and went but they stuck together. He owed a lot to him and Mal-they saved him from a tediously boring life that had no meaning after his family died. He wasn't so close to being suicidal but it was damn near close.

He lived for the job and the job kept him alive.

He really had no life outside it and he was ok with that. Or so he told himself.

He could tell that Cobb was worried about him as his normally steely blue, serious eyes were softened and he would clap him on the back every so often-a reassuring gesture.

He didn't pry but he tried in his Cobb, roundabout way to get him to talk about why he was upset, drinking alone and getting plastered on a Tuesday night. Arthur almost grinned at his ploy like he was trying to extract information from him.

"I just had a bad day. Said and did some things I regret but life moves on. Tomorrow's another day," he took a huge swig of his whiskey liking the burn that traveled down his throat.

He motioned for another. Cobb raised an apprehensive eyebrow but was polite enough not to comment.

He drove him home a couple hours later-Arthur getting what he wanted-very drunk.

He didn't remember a lot of the drive back only bits and pieces. Cobb taking his arm over his shoulder, helping him up the stairs, at one point he was crying on his couch as Cobb handed him some tissues, advil and water, puking in his toilet and finally waking up on the bathroom floor with a sticky note on his forehead.

It read:"Would have stayed with you but Mal called saying James has a fever. Take tomorrow off. -Cobb"

He would do anything but despite the bad hangover he knew he was going to have. He needed to be distracted and he had nothing but his work.

He managed to crawl to his bed and didn't even bother changing his clothes though Cobb had removed his expensive brown shoes and neatly placed them at the front door of his apartment he spied.

He had alcohol induced dreams-the only kind of dreams he had without the PASIV device.

They of course were about Eames.

* * *

He was late but he managed to get himself out of bed though he regretted it immediately and got himself ready as best he could. God he still felt drunk and he had a massive hard on that would not go away-the dreams of Eames still crawling all over him.

He tried not to look at himself in the mirror as he attempted to shave. When he did catch a glimpse of himself he regretted it. He looked worse than death.

"Screw it," he thought.

He felt like Eames-dressing in whatever he had available, no caring if it matched.

Arthur rushed to the warehouse. No one was there. He stupidly hoped he would run into Eames but he knew that he would be taking the next few days to tail their mark, learn her routine and routes and the areas she visited-observe her. He might not see him for at least a week.

He should have heeded Dom's words and not come in but he didn't-stupidly once again.

He tried to look on the bright side and realized he wouldn't have any distractions so he could put his nose to the grindstone and work. And he did though it was hard since his hand still hurt from yesterday, his head was pounding, his body aching, stomach still queasy- he was hung over like nothing else.

At some point he must have put his head down on his desk to rest his aching, strained eyes and take a break. He apparently fell asleep.

He was rudely shaken awake.

"I told you not to come in," his tone was light and a smile was playing on the corners of Cobb's mouth.

Arthur's eyes immediately flashed to his Harry Winston watch and saw to his dismay that it was after seven all ready. How long was he asleep?

Arthur ran a hand through his tousled locks and adjusted his waistcoat and shirt, tucking it back in best he could, feeling disheveled.

Cobb was laughing. He put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Go home; you're no good to me. How do you feel by the way?"

He pinched the corners of his eyes feeling the still lingering dizziness and pain of the hangover. "Never better."

Cobb released his warm hand on his shoulder. When Arthur met his eyes he saw he was dreadfully serious, all business.

"Listen, Arthur..." He rubbed at the back of his head. He knew that tone of voice.

Arthur didn't feel like getting a lecture about his drinking habits. He knew he probably scared Cobb but he still got his work done and Cobb should trust him enough to know he would continue to get the job done-no matter what it took, no matter how he was feeling.

"If this is about yesterday than save it. I appreciate you helping me but I'm fine now," he was immensely tired all of a sudden and his hand was throbbing again.

Cobb's serious eyes searched him and he shrugged a little. He looked down after a moment scuffing his shoe on the floor.

"All right. But just keep your binge drinking to a minimum if not for you but for me. I need my point man," he winked and without another word turned and walked away.

His concern grated on his nerves. He took his role as an older brother type too seriously. He was always trying to help everyone else and though it should be an endearing quality it just irritated him sometimes. Why wasn't he allowed to make mistakes? Everyone else did.

He felt like washing away his hangover with more drink but he was dog tired.

He collected himself and this time he did heed Cobb's words and left the warehouse soundlessly, swallowed up into the night.

* * *

The next few days were monotonous and stale. He didn't realize how quiet it was in the warehouse without Eames. He heard every little sound-every creek, every rustle, every footfall and the clock ticking. It was almost too much to bare and to be able to work. Cobb was avoiding him too.

Arthur felt like he couldn't win. Everyone seemed to be exasperated by him.

That was until the following Monday. He was expecting to see Eames breeze into the warehouse-late as usual, donning his sloppy clothes and equally as sloppy grin as he murmured some half assed excuses. He would tease him; maybe try to muss up his hair. They would go back to their normal banter. Maybe he would be allowed to apologize for real this time.

Arthur berated himself for how many times his eyes left the page or model he was looking at to look up at the door in eager anticipation.

He didn't show. Arthur tried to tell himself he didn't care but he felt disappointment and worry gnawing at his insides as he hopelessly tried to focus on his work. He thought of ways he could bring up his concern to Cobb without sounding pathetic. He couldn't think of anything.

Another two days went by without Eames showing up and he could sense Cobb's agitation. They both tried calling him since he was due back by Monday. He didn't answer or return their calls. Cobb just nervously laughed it off saying that Eames was probably just in a bit of a gambling jam again-needing to be bailed out. Arthur just flashed him a nervous smile and tried his best to agree. They both weren't fooling each other. Something was wrong. It wasn't like Eames to not check in-however hung over or in a jam he was. He always found a way.

Arthur had crazy thoughts that Eames was so insanely mad at him for how he treated him that he up and quit. But then he remembered how much Eames loved money, loved gambling, loved moving around to exotic locations and he dismissed it. He wouldn't abandon a job either as poor as his work ethic was. And he knew he respected Cobb and himself for the simple fact that he was sticking around with them and he told them past extractors and point men he's worked with were "shit".

Arthur took that as much of a compliment as he could.

"Eames, you bastard. You better not be pulling a joke on us or something. Call us back!" It was the 10th message he had left him.

Cobb was calling his sources and connections and no one had seen Eames. Arthur went around his favorite haunts-brothels, casinos, bars even his hotel and no one had seen him in a week.

Arthur's concern had increased steadily after every passing day. He felt the acid of worry swirling around in his stomach and he thought he would develop an ulcer.

Cobb was taking full responsibility as he always did even though Arthur insisted it wasn't his fault. Eames was self sufficient and constantly pushed the envelope to get the job done which is what they both admired about him. He wasn't afraid to take risks.

Mal was worried about Cobb as she phoned Arthur telling him, pleading with him to please find this rudding Eames person so that her husband would stop talking about it, sleep and not beat himself up over it.

So the search for Eames began.

The job was abandoned and all efforts went to finding their colleague.

They hit dead ends everywhere they went. That was until Arthur hacked into the Paris police system and found out that Eames' car was reported abandoned on the side of the road, nowhere near where he was supposed to be tailing the mark.

They feared kidnapping. When Cobb got the phone call the next day it confirmed their strong suspicions.

Cobb's eyes grew three sizes when he answered the call and Arthur just knew. He knew Cobb's reactions and emotions all too well. Arthur sat and clasped his hands together tightly, knuckles turning white as he anticipated the worst.

Cobb put his phone on speaker so that Arthur could hear though deep down he really didn't want to.

"We have your associate. Listen to me carefully. I will not repeat this. We want all your information on the Simon job we also want one million Euros. The exchange will happen tomorrow evening. If you do exactly as I say he will not be harmed further or killed."

"I want proof of life," Cobb yelled angrily, interrupting. Arthur threw him an incredulous look, shaking his head. He just wanted to strangle him.

The male French accented voice made a: "tsk tsk" sound like he was berating his child for sneaking a cookie out of the jar.

"Oh Mr. Cobb you disappoint me. Here I thought you were a prestigious business man! I thought you cared about your associates?"

Cobb's face was twisted up in a snarl and Arthur could sense the older man was biting back his tongue. Arthur hoped that he would successfully hold it this time-Eames' life was resting in the balance.

Their eyes met. Arthur just shook his head at him again. They would have to comply with these people and hope to God they would deliver Eames. They both hated feeling that the situation was out of their hands, their control but they had to give in. Arthur was all ready going through a mental checklist of the materials on the Simon job that they were working on currently that they would have to hand over. These people were apparently other extractors that wanted the info to take over, to sabotage their work. There had been attempts from others before though Cobb and him were able to thwart their efforts. Cobb was the best for a reason.

"Tomorrow. Under the Pont du Carrousel Bridge by Pont Royal at 2400 hours," the man sighed heavily into the phone. "I will put him on as you requested but never, NEVER demand anything from me again. Ever! Do you understand?" He released what Arthur thought were some curses in French.

"Yes," Cobb said weakly.

There was some rustling as he imagined the phone was being passed off to someone. Arthur's chest tightened and his heart started beating at a furiously fast pace.

"Hello darlings. Terribly sorry but I've got huge men pointing guns at my face. Do be a dear and save your old friend," he sounded terrible and they heard him grunt in pain as the phone was taken away and there was rustling once again as it was passed back.

"Happy? He's intact."

"We need more than twenty four hours to produce the money," Cobb trained his deep set fuming eyes to the floor.

"Ridiculous! What do you take me for? I don't care if you have to steal, sell everything you own, sell your sister or mother, whoever or pull an extraction to get it but you will deliver the money and all the information tomorrow by 2400 or else this intolerable British fuck dies," the phone was hung up abruptly leaving the bewildered Cobb and Arthur to stare at each other wide eyed in the eerily quiet warehouse.

Cobb reacted in anger a short time later, swearing, continuingly pulling at his hair, throwing things and flipping a chair over.

Arthur took the more subdued, stunned approach burying his head in his hands, pressing his palms deeply into his skull in an attempt to push some ideas in of how they could produce one million Euros in twenty four hours.

"Impossible," he whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

They had been in bad scraps before but never like this.

As Cobb's reputation grew so did their danger and increase of risks. They were constantly moving their HQ and tried to keep as low of a profile as they could but people always seemed to find them. There were always ways to find someone that didn't want to be found and for all they knew the kidnappers could have tortured Eames to get him to confess their location. So they anticipated the worst.

Cobb and Arthur agreed that these sabotagers, these kidnappers were not going to attempt to steal their hard worked info on the Simon job and agreed that was because they were greedy and wanted the money. Why steal it when you could kidnap one of them, hold them for ransom and still get the information? Though they could have found a way to bug their building. They wanted their cake and eat it too. As a precaution Cobb and Arthur made sure to write down their intentions to one another after the ransom phone call, showing the other and made a point to say out loud that they were going to go to their banks to get the money just to be safe.

Cobb and Arthur gathered up the PASIV, their weapons and all the important information, files, etc and left the warehouse, maybe for good. It wasn't safe and they knew they could be watched even as they left. Cobb scribbled Arthur a note and handed it to him. Arthur all ready knew what it would say but opened it anyway. It read that they should take separate routes and reconvene somewhere else to discuss the ransom money.

They contemplated burning the warehouse down but they decided against it. Setting it ablaze would only alarm the kidnappers or attract more unwanted attention. They were all ready in a shit storm; they didn't need to stir up any more trouble. Any time they wasted was time they didn't have at this point.

Cobb met him a couple hours later at an abandoned building on the outskirts of town. It was a building that Arthur found through research a couple months earlier as a possible "meeting" place for them and a client but at the last moment was scrapped. It was the safest place that no one knew about they could think of on such a short notice. It would have to do.

They of course butted heads on how they could produce the money. Arthur thinking of unpractical methods like robbing a bank, hacking into their computer systems or breaking into an ATM which he had done before in his youth, knowing that they would get caught eventually but not caring.

They could always relocate, hell they were all ready talking about going back to the States after this job, they could handle it. He didn't care about the risks. There was a man's life hanging in the balance. They needed to act. There wasn't enough time for a grand master, bank heist plan and they would have to move very quickly.

Cobb sarcastically laughed it all off and roughly refused him saying that they could get the money more legitimately. If they just pooled all their money, he would phone Miles as well who had connections and could most likely wire the rest. Arthur argued that would take too long and brought up the idea of pulling an extraction on a very wealthy businessman to get his bank information to wire transfer the money to them. Cobb argued saying there was definitely not enough time for that, even Cobb acting as the architect-they couldn't just pull a rich man off the street and attempt to extract his passwords and bank routing number. Arthur said they could break into his house instead, break into his safe.

They argued and fought for too long-their irritation in each other growing. Arthur saying they should case the meeting place, set up a shot for their sniper rifle, hide there until the meet and just take them all out, freeing Eames. Problem solved. Cobb countered it saying they wouldn't be dumb enough to have Eames visible right away before they got there and since they would be under a bridge with not a lot of space and light- it would be damn dear impossible for them to get a good shot, sniper rifle wise anyway. Arthur had to reluctantly agree with him on that.

After what seemed like a decade they finally reached an agreement-meshing together an idea from both of them. Both of them would pool their resources to get as much of the money as they could legitimately and Arthur would also hack into a major bank's computer to take out the rest they needed, to be wired into a new fake account which they hoped wouldn't be too much or draw too much attention right off the bat.

They would have work together seamlessly to pull it off. So why did Arthur get the feeling Cobb was trying to take the majority of the work and leave him with literally nothing to do?

"What aren't you telling me?" Arthur was sitting, setting up his laptop, preparing to have to hack into the bank's computer system if they couldn't get enough money from their connections, knowing that Cobb was just placating him and would find the money without him having to do it anyway. Cobb was looking through his contact phone numbers for one of his old friends-a man that had joined them as an architect on a couple jobs before deeming it too dangerous of a lifestyle and wanting to start a family with his wife. Cobb didn't really blame him and had started his own around that same time but he was hopelessly addicted to the job. It would take a lot for Cobb to turn away from it Arthur always thought.

Cobb's hard eyes glanced up to the point man who was still working.

"We don't have time now. I tried talking to you about it before but it can wait."

Arthur slammed his hand much too hard on the makeshift desk he set up sending waves of pain through his arm. He winced and gritted his teeth. "You tell me right now, damnit. Don't think that I'm too stupid to notice that you're trying to keep me out of this and do all the work yourself even though I want to help and it'll take both of us to get the money. You need to tell me so we can have it out and move past it so we can actually work."

Cobb narrowed his eyes in anger. He rose from his chair slowly, keeping one hand on the back of it.

"I'm doing all the work because I don't want you involved…"

"Stop, just stop. There's no time for this petty, guilty conscience, overprotective shit. I get it, I do. You're in charge so you feel responsible. You want to take the blame for all this and in an attempt to make it right you're going to swoop in and save the day, to clear your conscience," he was breathing rapidly, spitting mad.

He wasn't expecting Cobb to look surprised and almost hurt.

"I was going to say I don't want you involved because I know how you feel about Eames, too much of a conflict of interest. I don't want it to cloud any more of your judgment as it clearly all ready has."

Cobb let his heavy statement settle and be absorbed. It seemed to fill up the entire building it was so thick and saturated.

Arthur's mind and body recoiled at the statement.

"What?" He pathetically squeaked out.

Cobb was looking everywhere but his face.

"That night I took you home after you were almost blacked out drunk at the bar. You were on your couch crying and it startled the hell out of me because in all these years I've never seen you like that," Cobb paused and chanced a look at Arthur whose stomach felt like it dropped to his shoes.

"I told you not to worry about anything that it was going to be ok but I also asked you hesitantly what was wrong. I never expected the answer I got," he scratched the back of his head looking embarrassed. Arthur almost told him to stop, almost. There was a part of him that needed to hear it, wanted to hear it. It was a deep, dark thing that lingered in his body and mind for so long and he needed to be released from it. It was the unknown that scared him half to death but also intrigued him.

"You told me you thought Eames hated you. I told you that was ridiculous and he was no reason to drink or get upset over that was until I saw your eyes and I knew before you told me. You said you never felt that way about anyone before and you feared you fucked it up. You wanted another chance," Cobb was searching Arthur's eyes now, probably concerned he said too much, worried of his reaction, wanting to make sure he should continue.

Cobb's words felt like icy daggers entering Arthur's innards. He imagined razor sharp thin icicles stabbing his soft organs ripping them to shreds. That's what Eames had done to him-he was reduced to a shred of a man now, stripped away, lost and vulnerable, a shell of his former self. He had never felt so helpless and empty. He never wanted to see one human being again more in his entire life.

Arthur felt he deserved this torture and embarrassment in a way. He had denied Eames and himself his true feelings. He had played dumb to Eames' real affections and further buried his own down because of fear and denial. He was too tied up and focused on the jobs to ever really stop and enjoy life-to allow himself any sort of true happiness. And why was that? He was all about control and order and didn't want anyone messing that up. That was until he met and fell for his polar opposite. Life was a cruel mistress.

"Go on," Arthur needed to hear the rest to free himself from himself.

Cobb shook his head. "That's about it."

"You were always a horrible liar when something was eating away at you," Arthur stared him down, drumming his fingers on the desk impatiently.

Cobb seemed to struggle under his intense stare and after a moment seemed to crack under the pressure. "You told me all the things you liked about him," Cobb said in a rush, cracking a sloppy smile. "I honestly tried to get you to stop but at the same time you seemed so tortured and broken. Like you had been keeping it in for so long. You needed to be out with it. You asked me if I thought Eames knew and I said I wasn't sure, telling you that you know how Eames is. You asked me if I thought Eames wanted you and I said of course he did-everyone knew, you were just the last one to really see it and you cried harder at that. I told you, and of course you don't remember now, that I'd prefer you two not getting involved but," Cobb cracked another warm smile looking at Arthur directly, openly. "Arthur, I want you to be happy and really I don't care anymore. You always seem so unsatisfied off the field and I think it would do you some good. I really do. I contemplated not telling you what you said that night but…"

Arthur put up a hand to stop him. "No, I'm glad you did. But it all seems pretty trivial now I mean hell he was taken hostage for Christ sakes and we haven't managed to come up with the money…"

"We'll get him back," he interrupted him, Arthur knowing he was trying to push out his fear.

The point man ran a shaky hand through his slicked back hair, exhaling nervously looking down at the desk. "I don't know about that," it sounded desperate and weak to his ears. Arthur could only imagine them handing over the money, if they did manage to scrounge it up, and the information and them offing Eames anyway, letting him float down the Seine River.

"We will," pure conviction in Cobb's voice now.

"And if you two aren't together when we do get him back then I'll fucking kill you both."


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur wasn't sure how to feel after Cobb had revealed all the secrets that Arthur was so desperately trying to hide from himself. Though the one thing that kept popping up in his mind was:"free".

Arthur tried so hard to remember that drunken night but only bits and pieces came back to him. He definitely did not remember having any kind of conversation about Eames with Cobb but he believed him. Everything he said Arthur found to be true anyway. He did feel like he fucked up, failed him in some way, was afraid he hated him after their last exchange when he didn't wait for him and wanted a second chance. Eames had waited long enough and it was his turn to act.

He had pushed him away and lashed out only because he was unsure of what exactly he wanted this whole time. Hell, he was still trying to figure him, Arthur Marek, out. He instantly liked and hated Eames because he made him question himself and his identity but again this intrigued him as well. And it was true-he had never met anyone that made him feel that way.

Arthur felt he wore some many masks, wore so many hats, trying to be so many things that he lost himself somewhere along the road. He felt like a forger himself. Maybe it was from spending so much time in the dreams. He knew deep down he was addicted to the job and the dreams. Reality wasn't enough maybe and even his totem couldn't ground him completely. Eames made him feel he was very much in reality and made it more interesting but it was scary at the same time. How do you take someone's hand and let them lead you into the unknown when you were so lost and were ok with being lost for so long?

He needed to get him back to figure it out. The rest could wait.

Cobb's convictions that him and Eames should "be together when they get him back" was supposed to be a sarcastic joke about them annoying him Arthur knew but he didn't laugh. A relationship with Eames would be impossible but at the same time he couldn't help but wonder.

Once Cobb and him cleared the air and all personal issues were aside Cobb gave him phone numbers and emails of people to contact. Arthur was grateful for the distraction. Cobb and Arthur worked feverishly and silently only speaking or breaking away from what they were working on to ask the other a question or to relay important information.

Despite Arthur's pessimistic attitude they were able to scrounge up a pretty good chunk of the hostage money including what they both could contribute. Arthur still wanted to extract or steal the rest of the money but Cobb's words about Eames clouding his judgment came back to him and he stayed close mouthed about it. He was a conflict of interest and was clouding his judgment. Sniper rifles? Really? What was he thinking? Cobb would do the same thing though if Mal was taken hostage Arthur decided. You would do insane, crazy things to get that person back.

Other ideas came to him in his delirious state-it was well into the night now and neither of them had said anything about stopping or getting some sleep. Arthur knew he wouldn't get any anyway. So he sat at his makeshift desk, feet propped up on top of it, chewing on a pencil, leaning back in his uncomfortable chair and conjured up some thoughts-crazy ideas invading his brain. His thoughts took him back to the French accented, male voice that had made the demands. He thought about the kidnappers themselves and realized that maybe they were going about this wrong way from the start. They were so focused on the urgency to escape the warehouse and get the money that they never thought to research these kidnappers, these other extractors themselves. What if they could find out who they were and where they had Eames currently? Arthur did love a good shoot 'em up and the thought of holding his assault rifle, his real one made him grin. He always did love holding a gun in dreams or otherwise.

Arthur relayed his half crazy thoughts to Cobb who surprisingly did not dismiss it right off the bat, argue or point out the loop holes.

"You maybe on to something."

Arthur was stunned.

"I have an idea." Arthur loved when Cobb said this because they were always effing brilliant. No more talks of money, hacking into banks and risk getting arrested, no, they were men of action-getting down and dirty, balls to the wall, getting it done.

For once they both could agree on the plan of action, both suppressing grins. They really were just a couple of sick fucks who loved their violence.

They drove stealthily, parking a few blocks away and snuck back to the perimeter of their warehouse. They climbed to the roof of a building that was nearby their warehouse-their night vision goggles giving them a clear view of everything below. It didn't take them long to see it. Their suspicions about their warehouse being watched were correct. A white, worker's van was parked around the corner of their warehouse most likely listening in to the bugs they had planted in the warehouse earlier, waiting for them to come back.

Arthur would run interference, distracting the people in the van. While they were distracted Cobb would sneak up behind the van, break a window, toss in some gas and use his tranquil darts on anyone that came out.

The plan was to keep them alive and get them to spill where the place they were holding Eames was.

Cobb and Arthur had done dozens of these kinds of thing before in dreams. They both felt pretty confident that they could recreate it in reality, both knowing the risks. If they die in reality it wasn't like in the dreams where they would wake up. Arthur began questioning Cobb's seriousness. Maybe he was just over tired or delirious? Did he really want to risk everything especially with having a wife and two small children at home? Cobb waived off Arthur's concern saying that he: "Had to do it, he owed it to Eames" but after this job he would relocate his family back to their house in the States, wanting to take some time off for a couple months. Arthur didn't blame him and agreed on relocating and time off. Paris wouldn't be safe for a while. He thought of Eames again and where he would go if they went back to the States but quickly pushed it out of his mind.

They quickly and silently left the rooftop and set to work. Arthur started a small fire in a metal trash can, adding gasoline he siphoned from a car he found in an alley. He snuck around corners and back alleys and positioned himself so he was kitty corner from the van, out of sight. Both men had walkies that they thought to bring from the warehouse. Arthur alerted Cobb that he would be starting. Arthur quickly rolled the flaming trash can towards the van but not directly into it and carefully shot the barrel making a pretty decent size explosion right in front of the van, blocking them from driving off right away.

Cobb acted quickly while the people in the van were caught off guard. He swooped in from the opposite direction-smashing the passenger window of the van, throwing in gas, running around to the back to position himself. Arthur ran quickly to meet him and back up his friend.

Arthur heard shots fired and quickened his pace.

Cobb had taken cover behind a couple newspaper machines and was taking shots at the people inside who didn't get the gas right away with his dart gun, switching to his Glock when he ran out. Arthur came from the opposite direction diving behind lamp posts and other things, taking cover and backed up Cobb as best he could which was difficult from his angle. The gas or darts finally kicked in and the shooting abruptly stopped. Cobb came up from his crouched position, motioning to Arthur. They approached the van and tactically searched it; Arthur removed the man in the driver's seat. Cobb stepped into the back and started securing the people with rope who were slumped over unconscious. There were four people total in the van Arthur counted.

They waited an hour for the gas and darts to wear off. Arthur had driven the van to an abandoned car lot. Now they both waited, playing with the guns in their hands impatiently waiting for one of them to wake.

Cobb was more skilled in interrogation and Arthur let him take the lead. The first two men didn't talk but the third, well Cobb knew how to press all the right buttons. Arthur had procured a rusty, old car jack from the car lot and Cobb threatened to break all the man's fingers with it if he didn't give them the information. When again he didn't budge Arthur held down the man's bound hand and Cobb smashed the rusty car jack down onto his finger until it broke just to show him just how serious he was.

He was singing like a canary after that spilling to Cobb and Arthur who their boss was and where the hideout was. Under normal circumstances they would have enough time to figure out if the man was bluffing, casing the place that he described and wait but they had less than twelve hours now to get to the kidnappers hideout and take them all out, freeing Eames. They still had to figure out part two of the plan. Arthur's mind was buzzing incessantly trying to think of something as he put the gag back in the whimpering man's mouth and stepped outside the van to talk to Cobb in private. The orange blazing sun was rising, glinting off the many car's hoods. The morning air was still and a little chilly. Both men wrapped their coats around them tighter, rubbed and blew into their hands.

"We need ten more men for a job like this," Cobb was trying to hide the eagerness in his voice Arthur knew. Both men loved the thrill and the adrenaline rush and were practically giddy as school boys. This was definitely a nice change of pace from extracting information from dreams. This time the violence and chaos were very real.

"Sniper rifle?" Arthur was smirking.

"Oh yeah," Cobb was practically laughing, watching the sun come up.

"We'll need more gas too. Vests, heftier weapons, everything."

"I know a guy," it was actually one of Eames' contacts but Arthur didn't think that he would care given the circumstances.

After the plan was hashed out Arthur and Cobb injected the men in the van with a compound- a mixture of the sedative they used in the PASIV mixed with something stronger that a former chemist had made them. They would be asleep for at least 8 or 9 hours, not waking from even a slap to the face. While Cobb locked the van with chains and a padlock Arthur hotwired an old car in the lot for them to take.

"I really don't think we've broken enough laws today, really," Cobb was leaning up against the car as Arthur cut and stripped the wires underneath the steering column, winding them together.

Arthur turned to his partner in crime. "I can think of a few others," they shared a wide grin. They both loved this immensely despite the unspoken dangers.

It was a long drive to the underground military surplus store. After they left the car they had to travel under the Paris Métro, through what used to be an old rail worker's break room, and down more flights of ancient stairs through the labyrinth structure. Both men were frisked and questioned by a huge behemoth of a bald man acting as security before entering the small, dingy shop. Eames' friend and contact Mac was there and once they dropped his name and Cobb introduced himself he was all smiles, Mac eager to help get Eames out of a jam, anything to oblige the great Dom Cobb and his posse.

They loaded up on everything-lots of heavy artillery, gas, riot gear uniforms complete with helmets with shield guards, batons, practically full body shields, and bullet proof vests. Arthur wanted to procure a new, shinier model Assault rifle-a frivolous purchase but Cobb shot him a look, a: "Business before pleasure" kind of look.

If they all survived this then Arthur would definitely come back here with Eames and purchase it himself, hell he would make Eames buy it for him as payback for saving his ass, he grinned at the prospect.

The plan was simple yet complicated at the same time.

For the nine or so hours they had left before the meeting was supposed to happen they would case the area around the kidnapper's hideout.

It was in a seedy downtown area surrounded by brothels and was known for the drug cartels to have made business transactions. The building they were keeping Eames was inconspicuous enough-a small, white crumbling building that used to be a bar but now served as an "office".

Cobb and Arthur took different positions on either side of the building and staked out out of sight, watching who entered and left the building, where their cars were, etc.

Cobb radioed to Arthur that one man left with his car and he would move into position to the parking lot in the back and would wait to see if he returned. If he did that was the opening they needed. Cobb would take the man by gun point making him take him into the building and threaten to kill him if they didn't release Eames. Arthur was watching the front door and would try to intercept anyone coming into the building.

It was a long, tedious process. Hours passed of watching nothing in particular, with little to no activity. Arthur cursed Eames under his breath telling him that he better not be dead all ready- all their hard work and efforts for nothing.

Just then, as Arthur was momentarily distracted, caught in a daydream he saw a car approach slowly and park along outside of the hideout, someone climbing out and approaching the building. The man oozed power, confidence and class-this wasn't a lowly peon-he was most likely working with the sabotaging extraction team.

"Shit," Arthur said under his breath as he picked up his huge duffel bag, radioing to Cobb. "Someone's going in the front. I'm moving in."

Cobb protested but Arthur ignored it. He had his gun out and ready. He stealthily came up behind the man as he was rounding the corner approaching the building, hitting him over the head with the butt of his gun with all his strength. The man was stunned and stumbled to the ground. Arthur threw down the duffel bag and searched the man quickly, removing his guns, tying his hands behind his back, securing a gag around his mouth, dragging him around the side of the building and radioing Cobb to come help him. Arthur brought the man up to his feet once he noticed he was conscience digging the barrel of his gun in his skull instructing him not to move or cry out.

When Cobb arrived they took turns suiting and gearing up, one of them keeping a gun trained on their hostage.

It was go time.

They used their riot gear batting ram to rip open the door and shouted:"We have one of your men! Do not fire or move or he will be killed!"

Arthur yelled roughly the same thing in French afterwards, Cobb nodding to him. The place was relatively small-the area that was used as a bar originally was converted into an office of sorts with desks, wipe boards, computers, filing cabinets, and the whole she-bang. Arthur spied a couple twin beds pushed up against a wall-most likely used for the PASIV and dream sharing. Arthur counted six men total-they were up and pointing guns at Arthur and Cobb but Cobb kept his gun trained on the man's scalp.

"We want your prisoner, the British man! Release him and your man goes free!"

Some of the men tried to move closer to the two extractors dressed head to toe in riot gear but Arthur shouted at them in French to stop moving. Cobb maneuvered himself and their bound hostage farther into the room, Arthur close behind, slowly scuffling through the office area. "We want your British prisoner! Release him and your man goes free." Arthur struggled with translating it roughly into French saying something like: "Release the British man. Your man will be safe."

When no one approached them or said anything directly to them Arthur motioned to one man with his gun, demanding him in French to take them to the British man, the man saying he would take them to him. Arthur kept his gun trained on him as they maneuvered through the small room. They came to another door; the Frenchman opened it with a key and led them to a small corridor.

That's when hell broke loose. The man leading them was apparently trying to ambush them and he drew his gun but not before he could fire it. Arthur shot him in the chest making him fall back. Arthur rushed the door, that led back to the main office area in an attempt to close it but not before he was heavily shot at. Thank God for the bullet proof vest and shield. A couple shots missed but one connected to his chest while he was struggling to secure the door, his body shield momentarily down, making him fall backwards, the wind almost knocked out of him. Arthur knew he would have a huge bruise later. Better than being dead.

He remembered the key and searched the dead man for it and managed to lock and baricade the door with Cobb's help. They were rushed by other men in the corridor but the partners dispensed of them quickly. Now they faced the problem of which room held their colleague. Cobb demanded their hostage tell them and removed his gag. The Frenchmen spit in Cobb's face and Arthur picked up on some swear words and racial outbursts-no actual information. They gagged him once again, Cobb ramming the butt of his battalion hard in his abdomen for payback and to shut him up which it successfully did.

"Eames?" Arthur cried out.

They were greeted with no response.

"Eames, call out where you are its Dom and Arthur!"

They had zero time left, Arthur reminding them as such. The makeshift barricade wouldn't hold the men in the office for too much longer and there was the back entrance which they hadn't got to yet.

They were sitting ducks. Arthur and Cobb had broken into all the rooms that they could find, searching and not finding Eames. Just as they were about to enter the last door at the end of the corridor it flew open.

"You fucking fools! Release my man!" It was the same accented voice that phoned them.

He stepped around a corner holding a gun to Eames' head.

"Drop your guns."

* * *

**A/N-Sorry for the long chapter, wasn't sure how to break it up without losing the pace/suspense/buildup. Hope you're enjoying it! Many more twists and turns are on their way for our three friends! Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks :)**


	5. Chapter 5

"Only when you release him we'll release your man. An even trade. Tit for tat, we'll leave peacefully after," Cobb dug the gun into the man's skull harder to further drive home his point.

"You fucking American bastards think you can come into my country, my business, take over all extraction jobs here and monopolize? Leave me with nothing?" He looked over their shoulders to the corridor riddled with bodies. "You just killed some of my men. There needs to be retribution for that. Tit for tat as you say," he sneered, showing his yellowing teeth.

"Fine. We'll release your man. You release ours. We leave you the information on the Simon job and we walk away. We won't come back to Paris again. The extraction market is all yours to dominate here."

"Not good enough!" he yelled, tightening his grip around a very unresponsive Eames. Eames' head lolled side to side, his ashy face trained to the ground. He looked half dead and something inside Arthur snapped when he saw him like that.

Arthur threw down his gun and removed his riot helmet, battalion and shield guard, throwing them to the ground as well.

"All right new deal. Our man for your man, the Simon information and me, the point man, the number two person that was behind the extractions jobs here. We'll never come back here and you can kill me when my friends are let go."

Cobb shot him a wild eyed, angry but fearful look.

"Arthur..."

Arthur shot him a death look that brought him up short.

The man in charge that the people hiding out in the van called "Manuel" seemed to ponder this new deal, a faint smile on playing on his lips.

Arthur kept his focus on him not wanting to look at Cobb. His mind was only thinking of one person now and he looked like he was completely out of it. He knew what he was doing was suicide but didn't care.

That's' when he saw Eames give him a slight thumbs up, Manuel didn't catch it.

Eames apparently had a plan. Arthur figured he might actually survive this.

"All right. I except the terms of the deal. Slide the information over to me now. Release my man and I'll release yours at the same time. We'll do it at the count of three."

Cobb and Arthur nodded. Arthur reached around and took off the small backpack on his back, sliding it to Manuel.

"Good. On the count of three. One, two…"

Before he could say: "three" Eames' head snapped up and elbowed him hard, throwing all his weight into it, knocking the wind out of his captor, sending him stumbling backwards. He was bound at his hands and feet but still managed to wrestle Manuel's gun away and flashed his fellow extractors a grin.

"About bloody time you got here."

They had no time to praise their friend's shining performance. Cobb knocked their hostage over the head with his gun, hard, rendering him unconscious, shoving him into a corner, moving quickly and shooting Manuel square in the chest, Eames shooting him again a second later to end him. "Get your own fucking extraction jobs. We'll be back here to monopolize again," Cobb spat before taking the lead, stepping over Manuel's crumpled corpse, grabbing the backpack and rushing through the door that he had burst out of. Eames waved off the men's help, saying he was good for the time being. Arthur scooped up his gun and helmet and quickly followed Cobb and Eames' lead. The other door leading back to the office they secured earlier was broke open they heard, men pouring out. The three men found the back exit and plowed through it, securing the door behind them, blocking it with a dumpster.

They ran, Eames trailing weakly behind until they got to their stolen car parked a few blocks away. Luckily they weren't followed.

Cobb and Arthur stripped the riot uniforms off, totally out of breath. Arthur's chest hurt like hell and it hurt just to breath. When he looked down his shirt he could see the skin where he was shot at was all ready turning purple. He was lucky he didn't crack or break any ribs. His hand was throbbing as well. He realized he was immensely tired too-having gotten no sleep the night before and barely eating anything. Eames looked worse though, like he was half dead. Running was probably not a good idea for the tortured man.

Now that the adrenaline rush of breaking in, rescuing and escaping had worn off. He took time to really take Eames in. He was half starved and his always shoddy lose clothes were really falling off him now. His face was sunken in. His scalp was a crust of blood, eyes droopy and bruised, lips cut and he was staggering like the motions of walking was even too much for him now.

Arthur watched him helplessly, stunned in place. He didn't know what to feel so he felt it all, letting it roll all over him like a wave: anger, guilt, deep affection, pity, sadness, remorse among fifty other things he supposed.

He knew he was starting but didn't care; he wanted to really absorb him-to take in that he was indeed alive, not well but at least alive. Eames looked up from his hunched over position, trying to catch his breath and caught his gaze. He looked far away like his eyes couldn't quite focus. Arthur wanted to rush to his side and support him but still felt frozen in place. Eames approached him and stopped when he was a few feet away. Arthur suppressed to recoil and gag-he smelled worse than anything he had ever smelled before, it was overpowering. They obviously didn't let him bathe in all that time. He blinked away some tears from the awful sting of his stench but he was still never happier to see him.

"You look utterly ridiculous with your mouth hanging open like that. You know what they say about catching flies or something," his ridicule was interrupted by a deep cough that racked his body. His whole body shook as he wiped at his cracked, bloody lips.

Arthur thought of about a million things he wanted to say to him but settled on the old standby.

"Fuck you," he couldn't hide his smile though.

Eames was still coughing, a laugh in his voice. "God I think I actually missed that."

Arthur was helpless to know what to do for him. Eames never liked asking for help-that much he knew. So he did what he thought was right and marched right up to an impatient, pacing Cobb.

They argued as quietly as they could about calling an ambulance, keeping their backs turned from him. Cobb insisting it was a bad idea because of the attention it would draw given the circumstances and Arthur rebuking saying he needed immediate care, he looked like shit and he could have internal bleeding. They continued to bicker not paying any mind to the man in need.

"For fuck sakes I can bloody hear you two! You're grand subtly eludes you. Now can you two gits please argue on the way to the hospital?" To further drive home his apparent point Eames stumbled to the ground. Cobb and Arthur, pushing their differences aside, rushed to his side and supported their friend, practically dragging him to the back of the car, Cobb instructing that Arthur should drive. Arthur suppressed the huge urge to hit him, gritted his teeth instead knowing that taking care of Eames was a bigger priority.

Eames was moaning in pain now-all facades aside, his wall of pent up control crumbling. He really was trying to put on a brave face earlier. It was apparent that his pain in actuality was quite bad. Leave it to Eames not to come right out and tell them. Arthur was pissed and also understanding at the same time. Arthur would have done the same thing.

"Eames. Eames stay with us buddy, don't close your eyes."

Cobb flashed him his wide eyed, worried look.

Eames eyes fluttered open though they were drooping.

Arthur pointed to his head and mouthed "concussion". Cobb caught his drift and nodded. Eames shouldn't close his eyes or fall asleep if he had a concussion.

"You were great back there man. Good thinking on your feet. We'll go out and celebrate and be laughing about this whole thing in no time," Cobb turned to Eames in the back and flashed him a stupid grin.

Eames responded by grunting and releasing another moan.

Arthur drove faster.

When they arrived at the hospital both men carried him out of the car quickly and literally dropped him at the emergency doors, driving away just as fast, tires squealing. They would have to check on him later, there was no way they could walk in with him and have the police asking them tons of questions, pinning them to the scene of the crime. They hoped that Eames was coherent enough not to mention them at all.

Arthur hated the idea but knew they had to do it. They had to ditch the car they hotwired and stole and would come back in a couple days to check on him, each going separately. Cobb wanted to relocate back to the States in a week's time. What Arthur decided would be up to him.

Arthur started to feel something grow inside him and expand as they drove away from the hospital; it was relief, relief that Eames was finally safe. He didn't realize that he felt he had a ton weight on his shoulders until it was gone as they drove fast to abandon the car and to go their separate ways-each staying at a different hotel.

They weren't out of the woods yet and they knew they had to lay low. Cobb clapped him on the shoulder telling him to be safe and not do anything crazy. Arthur gave him a knowing smile.

"You either."

No hugs, handshakes, or congratulations were needed. They both knew they had done an effing brilliant job with rescuing him and still keeping the Simon information. They had put their difference aside, done the right thing and made sacrifices.

It was all part of the game they had entrapped themselves in.


	6. Chapter 6

Eames had endured a lot of trauma but luckily nothing too life threatening.

Arthur was a bouncy, jittery ball of nerves, sitting low for three days. Having no contact with anyone, not even Cobb. Staying in the seedy hotel, barely leaving his room.

Cobb insisted he should visit him first.

Arthur learned quickly that he wasn't in ICU which was good.

He had bought him some Newcastle and a pack of Bensons-his favorites, knowing he wouldn't want flowers though not really liking supporting his bad habits either. He also had gotten him a burger and fries, all things that would eventually kill a man, neatly secured in a brown paper grocery bag.

Arthur realized he was shaking as he knocked on the door, hand trembling.

"Come in," Eames' voice was raspy and rougher than usual.

Arthur stepped inside taking in the bandaged man on the bed briefly before averting his eyes. Eames face had screwed up in surprise turning into a smile a few seconds later upon seeing him.

Arthur didn't know what to say. "Hey," he gave him a little wave of his hand placing the bag down on the floor.

He wanted to throw his arms around him, touch him, any kind of contact but he resisted. He straightened his jacket, he was very agitated.

Arthur could see from the corner of his eye that Eames had pointed to the bag. "You brought me food. I can smell it."

Arthur was staring at him now, taking in this version of Eames-broken down, fragile, vulnerable, face still mashed in, head and one hand wrapped securely in bandages, arm in a sling, there were visible bruises on his arms and neck that he could see from the hospital gown he was wearing.

"You're doing it again, Arthur. Mouth hanging open. It's really not that bad and I can sleep now thankfully."

Arthur closed his mouth in a snap, averting his eyes once again and moved to get the bag off the floor unwrapping the burger for him because of his arm being in a sling, positioning the other food close to him on his table. He wanted to feed it to him, to nurse him but he repressed the absurd, crazy thoughts.

"Thank you, darling. This hospital food is murder."

Arthur still couldn't say anything so he took a seat in the chair next to the bed and watched the broken man eat. Eames ate it with great relish telling him over and over how good it was, saying he missed real food horribly and thanked him profusely.

When he finished Eames seemed to pick up on the other man's silence.

"Did you miss me, darling? I thought about you a lot in that tiny little shit hole of a pantry they kept me tied up in."

Arthur swallowed hard looking down at his clasped hands in between his legs, fidgeting.

"It was a joke...at least the bit about you not the cramped, closed quarters. Did you not...?"

"I'm sorry," Arthur blurted out a little too loudly, interrupting him, still looking at his fidgety hands.

"I'm sorry for how I treated you that day at the warehouse, the last day I saw you before it happened. I…I tried to apologize that day but you left before I could."

"I know. I was attempting to play hard to get," he heard him exhale deeply. "Didn't work apparently. Got myself kidnapped instead before it could really pan out. It really was a masterful plan. One where it involved me ignoring you until you caved and ran into my arms. There was a gentle embrace, warm whispers, kisses in the rain...and...ah, it was bloody brilliant really."

Arthur tried hard to suppress the smirk though it tugged at the corners of his mouth helplessly.

"How much longer are they keeping you here?" All business now. He didn't want to talk about them.

"Wow, you're being dreadfully serious aren't you? They say a couple more days."

"Are you in much pain?"

"Arthur, darling, do me a favor and look at me."

Arthur felt his body jolt and felt it was being dipped in heat at his request though he was gripped with fear as well. He wanted to anything but look at him but he owed it to Eames and himself.

Their eyes met. His bluish gray, normally so vivid and curious eyes were milky, drooped, half open from being beaten, half of his face was purple and swollen in bruises, his hair was much too long, lips puffy and split. He still looked far too thin, his scraggly bearded face gaunt, bone and muscle pulled over tight yellowish skin.

"Jesus, Eames. What did they do to you?" His breath was shallow and shaky; his hands shook slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't take seeing him this way.

He made an "Aww" sound. "You really do care. I'm flattered but again I'm fine really. Listen what you and Cobb did..."

Arthur waved his thanks away.

"You would have done the same thing for us."

Eames scoffed and arched an eyebrow. "You don't know me very well do you? What you two did was pure madness and suicide and quite frankly I would have kept my life, thank you very much. But it was brilliant, Arthur. What you did, what you proposed to do...," his voice became serious at the very end of his statement, emotion pouring out of his words, something Arthur wasn't used to hearing from him.

"Why did you do it?"

Arthur threw him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

He knew damn well he just didn't want to say.

"You were ready to sacrifice yourself even before you knew what I was going to do. You were ready to throw your life away and make the trade."

Arthur shrugged, steepling his hands together.

"I had a plan. Once we did the swap and you and Cobb left I was going to throw the gas..." it sounded weak to his ears even as he said it and he couldn't even finish his thought. In actuality he had no plan. He probably would have gone out fighting. There were worse ways.

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter. You didn't have a plan. You're eyes were all screwed up and crazy like. A man staring down death."

Arthur stood up suddenly, buttoning his jacket and getting a startled look from Eames.

"Why are you and Cobb the only ones allowed to make scarifies? To take the fall and make mistakes? My God you two act like you're martyrs all the time! I'm sick of it. Get off my back all ready."

Arthur moved to the brown paper bag and emptied out the contents on the little rolling table, lining them up neatly, getting ready to leave.

"I was going to say that it was bravest, noblest, loveliest and also the stupidest thing someone has ever done for me. Thank you, Arthur. I'm touched. I truly mean it."

Arthur was moving around the room, moving his rolling table closer, moving his water closer to the edge of the table so he could reach it, throwing the bag and food wrappers away, tiding up and trying hard not to listen to him but not succeeding.

"You need anything else? I'm gonna jet," he stuck a thumb towards the door keeping his face lowered. He headed to the door.

He sensed Eames' confusion and hesitation.

"Arthur, I upset you. I'm sorry. I'm very glad you came to see ol' Eames. I would appreciate it if you stayed. I didn't mean what I said earlier, I missed you boat loads. You really have no idea, luv."

His words made him pause, one hand on the door frame. He didn't know how to feel. He wanted nothing more to spend time with him but his fight or flight response kept kicking in telling him to run, to escape what he didn't understand, to escape reality. Dreams were so much easier.

He swore under his breath, his back turned to him, facing the door.

"Eames..." he didn't know how to finish.

"You don't have to say anything just sit down next to me so I can see you. So I know I'm not in a dream, or the world created for me from pain, that I really am alive."

One heartbeat, two heartbeats. The dead silence stretched on for a few more heartbeats.

"You're a real insufferable asshole you know that?" He was trying hard to keep the emotion out of his voice.

"Yes I know, darling."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: It seems like I'm always a****pologizing** for long chapters for all my fics BUT this chapter for this story is no exception. So, that being said. I apologize :)

**

* * *

**

Though he knew he shouldn't have he visited Eames in the hospital briefly every day. Cobb was growing more and more agitated and impatient to leave Paris.

Eames was released three days later. Arthur cutting Cobb off when he phoned him the news saying he would pick him up. For once they didn't argue.

Eames walked with a limp, wincing slightly but otherwise he did all right for himself-refusing crutches and help of course.

He said he couldn't wait to drink the Newcastle and smoke his Bensons, he had thought of quitting but where was the fun in that? Arthur was very pleased he liked his gifts.

He looked slightly better but still not well. Someone had dropped off his ridiculous, oversized blue plush robe that he now donned with matching blue slippers. Eames asked jokingly what Arthur thought of his relaxed ensemble and Arthur could only shake his head and grimace.

They drove mostly in silence. When they did talk it was about lighter topics. Cobb didn't want to break it to Eames about him leaving to the States, saying he hated goodbyes and would phone him the day he left. That left Arthur with the decision to tell him or not. He also had been procrastinating on his own decision to leave or not too. Would he stay in Paris with Eames on the slight chance they could have something or go back to the States, to his home and be closer to Cobb and Mal-his family?

Arthur followed him up to his hotel suite, carrying his personal belongings to be polite.

When they reached the door Arthur was just going to hand him his stuff and leave. He was being completely chicken shit and he knew it.

"Come in?" Eames was looking at him expectantly.

"I...I can't. Ring us if you need anything," he handed him his things. He couldn't think of a good excuse to tell him.

Eames tried to hide the hurt in his eyes Arthur observed.

"Right. I guess I'm out of commission for the time being." He adjusted his ridiculous robe and traced a finger down the door frame. "If either of you get bored of doing your dangerous suicide missions, Hardy Boy stuff, you know," he shrugged. "Come by and visit me and by either of you I mean just you," he winked.

Arthur should have been appalled by the gesture but he had to admit that the wink was always sexy-holding a certain charm.

"Ok. I will. Take care, Mr. Eames." His heart was literally breaking, with every rapid beat. His response was to flee once again.

That was until Eames abandoned his bag of belongings, dumping them to the ground and grabbed at Arthur's scarred hand, making him wince. He was surprisingly strong for someone coming out of the hospital.

He brought him right up against him and Arthur gasped, feeling hot waves of pleasure rush through his body at the contact, feeling his heat. He also felt the gentle throb of pain from his sensitive, bruised chest. He wondered faintly about how Eames' pain was.

"I'm tired of the hints I've been dropping you. Are you really that dense or just totally not interested? Don't lie to me," his eyes were searching him, his voice was low and husky and he could feel his warm breath on his face.

He was having a hard time formulating a coherent sentence staring into those sexy, commanding eyes.

"I was so scared that I lost you," was all he managed to pathetically squeak out. Eames looked surprised and brought him to chest without a word. Arthur wrapped his arms around him and inhaled deeply, taking in his familiar scent.

Eames was stroking the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

"I'll tell you a secret, darling. I was scared shitless too. I thought I would never see my dreadfully uptight, stick in the mud, little point man again."

Arthur smiled into his plush robe, squeezing tighter and embraced the burning pain that came with it.

They stood there for a while like that, Arthur not really knowing how long. He marveled in his scent and his feel. Eames was stroking his back now, rhythmically making Arthur relax considerably.

Surprisingly Eames was the first to pull away.

"Come in?" Eames chanced again.

"Only if I can shave you, cut your hair, dress you and feed you," he looked the forger up and down, rubbing his sore chest. "You look like absolute shit," he added smiling.

Eames put a hand over his heart, mimicking being shot.

"You really get off on that sort of thing don't you?"

He gave him a disbelieving grimace.

"You do as well."

He shrugged. "Doesn't take much for me I'm afraid."

Arthur realized faintly he hadn't kissed him yet and Eames surprisingly wasn't pursuing it. Arthur was confused but felt like he almost got it as well. Eames wanted him to make the first move. It was probably all some forger trick like messing with his mind but Arthur realized he didn't care. He'd rather take things slow.

In the dream world nothing is what it seems and reality could be the same but Eames did make sense.

Eames noticed him nursing his chest.

"What's wrong?"

Arthur straightened up, dropping his hands and put on a brave face.

"It's nothing."

Eames turned his back to collect his bag and opened the door. He glanced over his shoulder at him a moment later.

"Show me nothing."

He allowed Eames to lead him into his suite. It was worse than what Arthur thought.

Even with free housekeeping it was a complete Bachelor pad mess, heaping piles of clothes everywhere, the kitchen a disaster, this and that scattered and strewn about. You couldn't walk without tripping over something or stepping over an unmentionable.

He sat Arthur down after clearing a spot on the cluttered couch. He took a seat right next to him, wincing. Arthur imagined his body as one big bruise.

He stared at the point man expectantly.

Arthur shot him a confused look.

"Well, off with it. I want to see this 'nothing'. I don't believe you."

Arthur rolled his eyes deeply thinking it was a horrible idea to be led inside this war zone.

After an uncomfortable moment he realized Eames was still watching him closely, waiting for an apparent response.

"I got shot at. I wore a vest, I'm fine. It's just a big bruise. Nothing like what you went through." He shifted uneasily on the couch and wanted all conversation and focus turned away from him. He didn't like talking about himself.

Eames inched closer to him on the sofa; he looked deeply concerned which confused Arthur. He wasn't the one that had been taken hostage and tortured for over a week.

Eames reached out suddenly and tucked some of his hair behind his ear, a sweet gesture. Arthur's breath caught in his throat and he was paralyzed with fear again.

"I feel awful that happened to you while you were saving my pathetic life. It would make me feel better and eased my guilt if you showed me."

Arthur repressed an urge to groan and roll his eyes again. This was obviously some sort of tactic to get him to undress. Well, he wasn't having it.

"Eames, I'll show you but it ends there."

His answer shocked himself. He couldn't believe he just agreed to this nonsense. Eames still looked troubled and concerned. He was a good forger for a reason-it all could be an act.

Arthur sighed heavily and unbuttoned his waistcoat and moved to unbutton his shirt but only half way, he was only going to show him, not take everything off completely, he was dumb but not that dumb.

Eames had moved in a little closer still, eyes trained to his chest. Arthur was a little shocked at how horrible it still looked as well-his skin between his shoulder and nipple an ugly black and purple-the size of a softball. He guessed he would have it a few weeks.

Eames inhaled a sharp breath when he saw it and immediately put out a hand to touch it gently. It was Arthur's turn to inhale sharply in surprise and delight; his fingers were cool and calloused.

His body always did strange things to him when Eames touched it, reacting in ways he didn't think was possible. He felt his mind was cutting through a fog; his body was slow and moving underwater though vibrating with heat.

Before he knew what was happening, Eames was lowering his face to chest and kissed his bruise lightly, like butterfly wings grazing his sensitive skin sending a fierce jolt through Arthur's system, the temperature in his body rising. Eames did something surprising then, he closed Arthur's shirt and started buttoning it back up, still looking troubled, muttering: "I'm sorry, luv." He moved to his waistcoat after finishing with his shirt.

Arthur swallowed hard, still gripping the side of the couch and almost felt disappointed when Eames finished, desperately trying to slow his heart rate down and clear his mind.

It felt like an eternity but when he glanced back over at the side of the couch Eames was sitting on his respective side once again, looking contemplative and pouty-stroking at his horrid beard.

He felt Arthur's eyes on him and gave him a weak smile. "Thanks for showing me. I am dreadfully sorry."

Arthur couldn't take anymore. Knowing it wasn't an act nearly drove him insane. Why was he apologizing when he was the one that got kidnapped? Didn't he think they would try to save him?

Arthur stood up before he could lose his nerve and he shot out a hand to Eames.

"Let's get you cleaned up. I'm tired of looking at you like this and you smell to high hell again."

Eames grinned and took his hand.

Arthur led him to where he hoped the bathroom was.

Once he found it he sat him down on the closed toilet and went about his work, letting the hot water run in the tub, rummaging through his drawers and cabinets for scissors and his shaving materials.

After he found everything he was looking for he lined up all his tools neatly by the sink and counter. He flashed Eames a sarcastic grin.

"Do you trust me?"

"Definitely not. Am I going to look like Mr. Clean?"

Arthur repressed a laugh. "Maybe but at least you'll have a decent shave for once. No more horrible five o'clock shadow that you always insist on having."

Eames released a blurted out laugh.

"Arthur, can you even grow facial hair? Aren't you like sixteen?"

Despite the low blow Arthur had to laugh at that. He had missed their playful banter, the sarcastic and snarky jabs and comments and stupid jokes.

"Let me remind you I am the one holding the scissors and," he looked him up and down. "Statutory rape is a bitch, that's all I'm saying." Both men laughed deeply at that-filling the small space up. He reached around Eames and stopped the tub so that it could fill with water. He gingerly removed Eames' bandage from around his head not liking the bloody gash that was still there. He politely decided not to comment, knowing Eames all ready knew how bad and nasty it was.

He got his hands wet and ran it through Eames nappy, straggly hair, getting it damp since he didn't have a spray bottle. He draped a towel around his neck to catch the fallen hair and set about cutting it. Eames kept his head down and was thankfully mostly silent through the whole ordeal only making a couple comments or asking a couple questions though when he had turned his attention to the sink to rinse off the scissors he felt Eames' light touch on his hip, lingering there, his thumb gently stroking his hip bone. The gesture said a lot and made Arthur scared, anxious but also very relaxed, an impossible combination: Eames in a nutshell.

The sweet gesture said: "I'm here when you need me but don't ignore me." Arthur patted his hand away, failing horribly at smothering his smile, filing the feelings away for later and went back to work.

Once he cut off the longest parts he used his hair clippers and buzzed the rest leaving it quite short-which Eames protested loudly against, he liked it long enough so that he could sweep it to one side but Arthur argued that it would look better like this especially after all the blood and nasty crap that had gotten in it. Eames hissed in protest but allowed him to do it. Although Arthur was no hair specialist he all ready looked life times better and the haircut wasn't half bad.

He refused his request for a mirror and didn't let him get up. He playfully told him he would let him see when he was all finished. He then set to trimming the nasty thing that was his beard. Eames was watching him expectantly now, almost innocently like a child. It was quite a different look for him, "becoming" came to Arthur's mind. He tried not to get distracted, hoping and not hoping that Eames would touch him again and carefully cut off the longer parts just like with his hair, marveling at how fast his hair grows and telling him as such. He moved to the electric razor after that getting off as much as he could-feeling disgusted with all the hair that was collecting on the bathroom floor, his OCD cleaning tendencies kicking in.

Eames seemed to relax considerably when he was lathering his face up for the last phase of the shave.

"My Grandfather owned a barbershop and he used to tell me stories about how old men would get so relaxed from the hot towels they received and how in the reclined back chairs they would practically fall asleep from being lathered up. I always used to laugh and ask how that was possible but…" he laughed, seeming to be lost in the memory. "Now I understand. It's the idea that someone is doing it for you," Eames smiled through the white shaving cream.

Arthur felt stunned and paused as he was getting the razor. Eames had never revealed anything about his past to him or Cobb before. Arthur dismissed this thought a second later. He never told Eames anything about his past either; they never really had any kind of heart-to-heart , serious conversations. The memory he shared was sweet though but to think that Eames had a past was surprising to begin with-he was so self sufficient, so lone wolf. He wouldn't have been surprised if he said he had no parents or family, that he was raised in the wild.

"Why didn't you become a barber like him?"

Eames unexpectedly blurted out a laugh. "I said he owned a barbershop. The shop itself was a front. It was used for money laundering. My grandfather never shaved a man in his life! He hired people to do it. He was a thief and a cheat- running an illegal underground gambling ring," Eames laughed again and winked. "Now you know where I get it from."

Arthur gave a weak smile in polite understanding not knowing how to comment but feeling intrigued all the same. Eames was never short of interesting.

He gently started the shave and Eames closed his eyes, looking serene.

"It is quite funny though, you are allowed to laugh."

"I will later. I'm trying to concentrate and not slit your neck open." Eames released a chuckle and Arthur yelled at him to stop moving while he had a sharp object to his face which made Eames laugh harder.

When he had finished and wiped up all the remaining shaving cream he told Eames to open his eyes. The transformation was a little more than shocking. He went from a scraggily hobo to a smooth playboy-well, at least as good as you could get-he was still too thin and swollen, had bruises and the big gash on his head.

Eames caught his stare. Arthur blinked rapidly, thinking he was looking at a new person, it was quite daunting.

"That bad huh?"

Arthur snapped himself out of the stare. He pointed to the bathroom mirror.

"See for yourself."

"Arthur, you're scaring me," Eames touched at his smooth face, raising his eyebrows and making a satisfied clicking sound. He got up and hobbled to the mirror and seemed to look genuinely shocked. He ran a hand through his cropped locks and touched at his face, turning his head from side to side. He whistled after a moment. "You sure did a dozy on me! I look like I'm bloody twenty years old again!" He threw Arthur a look. "But I suppose you got all the lice out," he winked.

Arthur was tidying up, cleaning up the fallen hair, not able to take it any longer when Eames put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Just leave it," he pointed to the tub. "Is that for me?"

Arthur nodded, a little bashful, not used to the younger, fresher looking Eames.

Eames made a "shooing" gesture by flicking his fingers rapidly. "Then scoot, "he smiled warmly.

"All right. You want me to wash something for you?"

Arthur had made his way out of the bathroom politely so that Eames could undress, talking to him with his back turned. Arthur looked over his shoulder when he didn't respond right away getting a full view of Eames' naked ass as he entered the tub. Arthur snapped his head away and blushed furiously.

"What was that, darling? You can come in now."

Arthur just shook his head and laughed. Eames definitely had heard him the first time, the bastard.

He came back in hesitantly and picked up his hideous blue robe off the floor. Eames was scrubbing at his hair, covered in bubbles from the tub and looked up at him.

"I'll wash this," Arthur held up the blue monstrosity.

Eames wiped soap from his face, twisting a pinky in his ear. "I got water in my ears. Come closer, I can't hear you."

Arthur came to the edge of the tub and spoke up. "I said I'll wash that filthy robe of yours." He should have seen what was coming but with Eames sometimes you just never knew. Eames grabbed at his arm sending him face first into the tub with him, making it immediately pour over the sides. Arthur's world was soap and water as he came up gasping for breath but all he could hear was the deep rumble of Eames' laughter.

He couldn't even speak he was so stunned and angry but Eames was in a sitting position pulling him close, not letting him get up.

Eames helped him wipe the soap out of his eyes, smoothing his hair back. Arthur could barely see, didn't like his wet clothes clinging to him and he felt like he couldn't breathe. He was too aware of Eames' bruised, tattooed naked body so close to his.

Eames was still laughing and when Arthur chanced opening his eyes, cursing him for them stinging, he was smiling.

"God, you're lovely," he traced a finger down his jaw bone resting on his lips.

Arthur had no words as he felt his soapy fingers trace his mouth but did what Eames wanted him to do from the very start he would tell him some time later-reached for him and kissed him openly. He wanted to feel those wondrous blowjob lips, his ears, his jaw line, his strong hands, and his shoulders. All the things he always fantasized about.

Eames immediately reciprocated, pulling him closer, exploring him deeply, longingly. It was the strangest and greatest kiss Arthur ever experienced. It was very wet and tasted slightly nasty of soap and shampoo but neither cared.

Both were gentle given their injuries and they stayed in the bathtub for quite some time, eventually breaking away from the kisses and exploring and just holding one another and talking.

Arthur was sitting in between Eames' open legs, leaning into him and noticed the particularly bad burn on the forger's hand now that the bandage was off. Eames told him that Manuel had burned him with his cigarette there. Arthur brought his hand to his lips and kissed it. Arthur held up his own right hand to his comparing, they had burn scars in almost the exact same place.

"It'll remind us of our dreadful, dark times and remind us to keep looking forward," Eames kissed his hand in return. It was a beautiful sentiment.

"I can't shag you in my current condition so this will have to do."

Arthur just stared up at him, non-believing and kissed him deeply. He finally let go to truly embrace reality, he could wait.

* * *

**Another A/N: This is optional ending #1. I actually had plans to stop here since they are sweetly "together" but something made me go further.**

**You can stop here if you like but their story still continues for a couple more chapters to explain Inception and past that. The choice is up to you.**


	8. Chapter 8

They practically lived in his hotel suite for a couple days straight, glued to the hip. Eames was indeed too weak to actually "shag him" as he stated before but that didn't stop him from showering Arthur with affection, gratitude and compliments-things Arthur wasn't used to. Despite his internal protests Arthur did nurse Eames, changing his bandages, fixing him food, helping him dress and getting him things he needed. He told himself he needed to stay with him to protect him.

Arthur was never happier but would learn that all good things come to an end.

The looming decision was still hanging over his head but with how happy Eames was making him and the need to help him get better were too over powering so he phoned Cobb telling him he wouldn't be coming back to the States with him. Cobb seemed disappointed but wished him well and said they would be in touch.

Eames and Arthur played house for another week-getting to know one another, finding their way into the bathtub together more than once. That was until Arthur got the phone call.

Mal was dead. She had lost touch with reality, still thinking they were in the dream world and jumped out of a window on their wedding anniversary. Cobb sounded dead too on the phone, like he died that day and in actuality Arthur knew deep down he did. Arthur was all ready throwing things into his suitcase before Cobb hung up. He felt completely numb-only replaying over and over what Cobb had said in his mind. He felt for his loaded die in his pocket, taking it out and rolling it. Feeling relieved when it came up on four. He rolled it again just to make sure and the same. Eames knew instantly that something was wrong.

He tried to ask but Arthur didn't want to open his mouth to speak, to acknowledge that she was actually gone, that Cobb had suffered that huge of a loss. He thought of his children and he felt a pang of grief rock his body, he closed his eyes tightly and clung to the nightstand as if it would ground him. He felt he was floating away, riding away on the great wave of guilt of not being there for Cobb, cursing himself for choosing to stay in Paris instead.

Eames had put a hand on his arm to stop him from packing, bringing him back to the moment.

"Arthur, tell me what happened. You look like you've seen a ghost, luv."

Arthur felt like the world was spinning. He felt he was living someone else's' life. This couldn't possibly be happening to him.

"Mal's dead. I'm leaving for the States. Her funeral is in a few days. Not sure when I'll be back," his voice sounded robotic like and very far away.

Arthur noticed Eames' shocked and crushed expression before he went back to furiously packing.

"I'm coming with you then."

Arthur shook his head. "You're still in no fit state to travel though I do worry about your safety. Manuel's men are going to be looking for blood. When you get well enough you need to leave Paris."

"This sounds like a goodbye."

Arthur couldn't look at him. Deep down he knew it was a goodbye. Their time together was over. Cobb needed him and he would go wherever he went now, he couldn't abandon him in his time of need and he couldn't ask Eames to live in the States with him especially in his condition. He needed to stand by the man, his friend that had given him his life back, given it meaning and showed him a new world. Maybe if he would have gone back to the States with them he could have helped Cobb with Mal, convinced her not to kill herself? Maybe she needed another person telling her that she indeed was in reality? He ran a shaky hand through his hair at the thought, feeling his loaded die in his pocket with his other hand feeling like the very walls were caving in on him.

"We'll see each other again I'm sure," he wasn't sure at all. He zipped up his suitcase, eyes trained to the floor and started out of the room, Eames close behind.

"I don't blame you for going, I really don't. What happened is horrific, terribly tragic and I know you need to support your friends but I don't want to lose you too."

Arthur winced and ran a thumb over his burn scar.

"This is bigger than us. I'm sorry. I'll call you when I get there," Arthur left without a backwards glance not wanting his last memory of Eames', his one shot at true happiness, to be tainted. He wanted to remember him as being wide eyed and curious, playful, daring, sexy and even sweet.

Arthur never did work up the nerve to call him.

They wouldn't see each other for another two years when they were thrust into working with each other once again for an unlikely job: inception.

* * *

"Where are you going to be?"

"I gotta go visit Eames."

"Oh, he's in Mombasa. It's Cobol's backyard." _Shit._

"A necessary risk."

"There's plenty of good thieves." Arthur knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"We don't just need a thief. We need a forger."

(This is an elaboration of that scene with them together in the warehouse)

"But why Eames?" Arthur again all ready knew.

Cobb looked more than impatient.

"Arthur we've been through this, he's the best. I know you two have…a history, a past of sorts and I never brought him up before for that reason but we have zero options now. We have no other leads and not enough time. He sounded interested when I spoke to him on the phone briefly. I'm leaving to meet him and hopefully find a chemist."

The two old friends were talking privately in the Pairs warehouse, a different warehouse than where they were working on the Simon job two years ago. They brought that up earlier and reminisced on a time when they saved said forger's ass, taking down French kidnappers in a blaze of glory in the process. It's strange where life can take you.

They did need a forger, it was critical for the Fischer job and they needed a grand forger at least. Eames was the best and their only lead on such short notice, Arthur had to admit. He had heard some stories weave their way through the black market, whispers about his excellent work. It seemed he was everywhere and nowhere. Arthur was ashamed to admit that he found himself doing research on him over the two years. He hadn't found much. Eames had heeded Arthur's advice and left Paris after a couple weeks and was a nomad ever since. Despite his efforts he thought about him a lot and entertained calling him, meeting him somewhere. Sometimes when he knew they were in the same or neighboring cities he thought about just showing up at this hotel. He came close to it but never did, convincing himself that the same scenario would happen and he would have to leave him-Cobb needing him.

It was all silly really. He was a grown man. If he wanted to leave, quit working with Cobb to pursue a relationship then he could but he felt he had a huge obligation to Cobb especially after Mal's death and how deeply it affected his best friend. Cobb too was losing touch with reality, with himself-that much for sure Arthur knew but never voiced it to his friend. He couldn't lose him like Mal.

They were working harder than ever, taking on more and more intricate and difficult jobs, regardless of consequences or risks, running away from their decisions, responsibilities, and past lives and escaping to the dreams and thrill. They couldn't agree on doing inception but he knew why Cobb wanted to do it and he felt powerless to help him once again. Arthur knew Cobb wanted and needed to get back to his family and some part of him wished he would and part of him wished he wouldn't. He knew it was horrible to wish that a father wouldn't reconnect with his children but if he left Arthur that meant he would have to face his own demons-namely one, a man that had opened his eyes to the terrifying unknown. A man that scared him half to death but also made him unbelievably happy.

Arthur wanted to argue further about working with Eames but decided against it. He had to put all feelings aside and be strictly professional. They had a job to do and what a job it was. Arthur had never done inception and just like with Eames it scared him and intrigued him at the same time but he trusted Cobb, he always had.

Ariadne did a good job of distracting him. She was a young, lovely, innocent creature. Arthur tried to tell himself that he could lose himself in her just like he did successfully once with Eames.

However beautiful and intelligent she was, she wasn't Eames. He tried so hard not to think of him when he was looking into her eyes but he would think back to their wonderful, short but sweet time together in the very same city and sighed with pleasure. He often wondered what would have happened if Mal hadn't died. Would him and Eames still be together? Would they have relocated to the States? Would they all work together as a team?

His eyes absentmindedly went to the very faint scar on his hand.

Ariadne had asked him a question and he had to ask her to repeat it.

Eames was doing it to him again-making him want more out of reality.

* * *

He was on pins and needles as he waited for Cobb to return with him. Ariadne seemed to pick up on his odd behavior and anxiousness but was polite enough not to comment, leaving him alone.

The day that the warehouse doors opened suddenly he just knew he was with him without hearing his voice. It was his smell-the same from those years ago. It came wafting in through the warehouse hitting him like a ton of bricks, his resolve crumbling.

His heart began beating rapidly, his breath short, his hands clammy and he swallowed hard. He closed his eyes and wanted to dissolve into the background. He just wanted to observe him and to hear his voice, the same feelings coming over him after rescuing him-he wanted to know he was alive, safe. He hadn't realized he missed hearing his gravely British accent too.

Cobb, Eames' voice and another's were echoing through the warehouse now. Arthur felt something uncurl and spread out in him upon hearing his familiar accent; it was like slipping on a familiar coat. It felt right. Arthur left his chair and straightened up, smoothing his hair and adjusting his tie. He wished he could have checked his reflection but he didn't have time. Cobb was showing him and another man, he supposed was their chemist around in another part of the warehouse, their backs to him. He could make out the forger's outline, his horrid suit, hair back to the boyish swept to the side look. The anticipation was killing him. Would Eames instantly hate him or ignore him?

He waited impatiently for them to turn their heads and meet him. Arthur didn't realize he was holding his breath until he turned and he saw his face-the first time in two years. He released the huge breath. He had remembered him as being gaunt, bruised, bandaged, swollen, scraggly and bloody. He was anything but now. He had gained his lost weight and color back, the African sun agreeing with him, all bruises and cuts vanished, he still had his familiar five o'clock shadow and he still carried himself with that British suave air-one that was cool without trying, cocky but irresistible.

Arthur smothered his smile.

Cobb was showing the chemist something. Arthur felt like a forger, observing the three of them when they still hadn't acknowledged or seen him yet.

Cobb was handing Eames a file and was looking the other way, pointing something out to the chemist when Eames apparently got the feeling he was being watched, he was a good forger for a reason. He looked over his shoulder and their eyes met for the first time in years, his same calm but curious gaze meeting his with not a look of surprise but a look of: "Yes I'm here, deal with it." Eames gave him a slight smile and winked, directing his attention back to Cobb a second later.

Arthur was stunned and felt his body ignite in heat from that familiar wink.

The three men came over to him a short time later, Eames looking far too amused and smug, hands deep in his pockets, eyes cast downwards, whistling slightly, the chemist looking eager and bright-eyed. Arthur was introduced to their chemist, Yusuf and after their introduction Arthur stuck out a hand to the forger as well without thinking. "Mr. Eames," he was one big ball of nerves and cursed himself for being so formal, at showing him he cared. Eames looked at his hand a moment almost in disbelief but took it smiling a heartbeat later.

"Oh, Arthur. You don't call, you don't write. I was beginning to think that the great Dominic Cobb and Arthur Marek, extractors extraordinaire were a folktale, an enigma, an idea but," he motioned between the two friends. "Here you are, in the flesh, ready to take on another legendary suicide mission." Arthur didn't know if it was supposed to be a joke or not, if it was supposed to mean that he harbored harsh feelings towards them for not contacting him sooner, he said it so deadpan. The four men stood together awkwardly letting the uncomfortable silence consume the air around them.

He clapped Arthur on the back suddenly, startling him. "A joke. You were always such a huge stick in the mud. Both of you really, too dreadfully serious. Now, where can a bloke get a decent drink in this town, it's been ages since I've been here last."

He broke away, hands in his pockets again, whistling, looking around, bored. Ariadne came out of the little workshop area intercepting him, evidently hearing them and the forger and architect met. He could hear her sweet laugh as he imagined Eames whispering something to her cunningly clever. Yusuf walked up to join them and shook Ariadne's hand, all smiles.

Cobb was walking up to them as well, throwing Arthur a knowing look over his shoulder-somewhere between "I'm sorry" and "It's just one more job so deal with it, I am."

Arthur felt for his faintly scarred hand and agreed silently to his plea. He was looking forward to the future.

* * *

**A/N:Reviews please! Are you pleased/sorry/upset that you kept reading and didn't take my "out"?**

**Still more twists and turns ahead as we move into the actual film and beyond!**


	9. Chapter 9

It all would have been so much easier if Eames wasn't working with them. He could have concentrated better and not worried so much. It was like the Simon job all over again. He worried that something would happen to him and he slipped into over protective mode though hid it with cold harshness towards the other man. But he did slip up a few times and showed that he cared.

After they were shot at by Fischer's militarized subconscious he was paralyzed with fear, thinking that Eames was hit.

"Are you alright?" he looked to him in the backseat, heart pounding behind his ears.

God, they were so fucked.

"Yeah, I'm ok, I'm ok. Fischer's ok unless he gets carsick."

God, what was wrong with him? His first question out of his mouth should have been if Fischer was ok. But really he didn't give two shits about him. It was the other man he was worried about.

Arthur released a very shaky breath he didn't know he was holding, his heart rate going back to semi normal.

He willed everything in him that they made it out alive and that he could keep it together.

* * *

He thought tricking Ariadne into giving him a kiss would help him not think of Eames, to gain some more control over his emotions, to be able to focus on the impossible tasks ahead. It did the very opposite and he imagined it was his lips as she pressed hers to his chastely.

He was a horrible human being.

* * *

Things just got more and more complicated as they prepped to enter the third level.

He again fucked up and let his emotions take over when he had a private moment alone with him.

"Security's going to run you down hard."

He felt a jolt run through him at the forger's warning. Was he trying to protect him too? He noticed the concern touching at the forger's eyes as they prepped the IV.

He was probably just imagining the whole thing. Eames still hated him, he was sure of it.

Could this really be the last time he saw him? The last time he touched him? He tried to push it out of his mind and put on his bravest face, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice, failing horribly. He decided to make a joke of it, to shake off the feeling that this could be goodbye…once again.

"And I will lead them on a merry chase."

Eames gave him a knowing smile, one very similar to Cobb's as if he was looking straight through him, hiding a secret. They needed to get back to reality so he could kick his ass for real for what he was making him go through, the absolute mind fuck of trying to decipher him though he knew he shouldn't be trying.

"Just be back before the kick."

He was back to being serious. Again another warning, like Arthur needed to be reminded of what to do. His condescending retort died in his throat as he looked at him lying vulnerable on the floor again looking a bit worried.

"Go to sleep, Mr. Eames." _Goodbye._

He was always running away from saying goodbye to him, it was just too fucking hard.

That time he really couldn't keep the emotion out of his voice but thankfully he was all ready under and most likely didn't hear him.

* * *

To his relief and dismay the Fischer job was a success, Cobb could finally return to the States, the place he had desperately tried to go home to two years ago after the Simon job wanting some time off with his wife.

Now he was going home and leaving Arthur. Arthur felt glad for him but crushed. He was his mentor, his confidant, his partner and despite everything they went through, all the fights, arguments, holding things back about Mal and inception, even withholding information on the dangers of the Fischer job he still admired and looked up to him like an older brother.

He had never seen Cobb try to hide his excitement more as they landed at LAX and they were walking to baggage claim. He drew Arthur aside before they got there.

"I guess you know what this means?"

Arthur put on a brave face and even chanced smiling knowing it probably looked a bit forced.

"Yup. You deserve it. Don't be a stranger," he switched the heavy PASIV briefcase to his other hand and was turning to leave when Cobb put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Arthur, now that I'm retiring are you going to keep working? What do you plan to do?"

They had never discussed this before and Arthur tried hard not to think about it himself. He knew Cobb was just trying to look out for him like always but his timing was awful. They really shouldn't be pausing like this, huddled together and having a heart to heart, it wasn't safe. They needed to leave the airport as quickly as possible. He knew he would see and talk to Dom again but it wouldn't be the same. They would never experience the rush together, the thrill of extracting a secret, reveling in the dark and dangerous trade.

He inhaled deeply trying to keep the uneasiness out of his voice.

"I'm going to take a little time off, spend a little of Saito's money, recharge in New York," none of this was true, he wanted back in on another job right away to distract himself but he knew he would have to disappear for a little while before that. What he would do he had no idea.

Cobb gave him a weak, knowing smile.

"Good plan but I think you need to explore other options too," he had that tone in his voice again, one reserved for lectures or meaningful insights.

"Like what?" He was growing anxious, feeling all airport security's eyes on them.

"You know what. You don't have to worry about me anymore, Arthur. I'm releasing you of your 'obligations'. You're free to make yourself happy. We're both finally getting what we want now. I'm just sorry it took so long," he squeezed his shoulder, gave him another knowing look and disappeared into the rushing crowd of travelers.

He felt like an abandoned child. He wanted to run after him, strangle him and tell him he had no clue as to what makes him happy or what he wants but he was right-he was always right. He knew him better than he knew himself. He felt hopelessly lost but also surprisingly free. Cobb's words of understanding and dare he say "blessings" made him feel ok for wanting to get back to himself after two years. Cobb found his resolve, now he needed his.

He thought Eames would be long gone but he spied him in baggage claim when he got there, getting a cart for his luggage. Cobb had gotten his luggage all ready and was walking briskly out. He watched him go; cursing him and wishing him luck in his mind.

Arthur got his own luggage cart and elbowed his way to the front of the carousel to catch his luggage. Saito was on his cell phone, apparently leaving his luggage for the time being. He saw Ariadne on the other side keeping her eyes trained to the revolving tread, tucking her hair behind her ears, dutifully searching for her things. Yusuf had all ready gotten his and was securing it on the metal cart. Their eyes met briefly and Arthur gave him a little nod, he returned it, smiled and left. He stupidly hoped he could work with him all of them again. That only left one other. As if he knew he was thinking of him he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, his aftershave hitting his nose.

"Do you want to share a cart? Might be easier navigating through this torturous thing."

Arthur kept his eyes trained to the luggage carousel trying not to feel anything but failing miserably. He felt the same after the Simon job: incredibly happy that Eames was alive, wanting to throw his arms around him.

"You shouldn't be talking to me and no we cannot share a cart," he spied one of his bags and unsuccessfully fumbled with it, not getting a good grip. Eames caught it and they both hauled it off the carousel together, Arthur's cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"My God, you're expensive, tailored suits are heavy," Eames whistled. He really didn't understand the "go our separate ways after the job was done and we landed" rule.

Arthur rolled his eyes knowing if he positioned himself somewhere else on the carousel he would just move by him.

"Are you staying here or are you getting another flight?" Eames got one of his bags off the revolving carousel, focusing on finding his others.

"Don't know yet," he wasn't sure of anything anymore now that Cobb was gone.

Arthur met his eyes for the first time after inception, his dark mixing with his light, he was reminded again of how vulnerable, open and scared he looked when he was prepping him for the third level. They both had been scared for each other.

He had to admit that Eames had done wonderfully and he felt a surge of pride bubble inside him at how well he portrayed Browning. Cobb made a good decision with choosing him-no one else would have been able to pull it off and help them masterfully form the overall plan too.

"Can I persuade you to stay this time or are you running to meet up with Cobb again?" He was fidgety, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

There was hurt laced in his voice but it didn't come off accusingly, it was more like he was anticipating the worst. It was a lot for him to come out and say it, to position it to him and again Arthur had to admire it.

Arthur realized that despite his sometimes cruelty or indifference he showed towards him during the Fischer job that he really did care and the feelings were still there-thinking back to the way he would look at him, smile or try to warn him with his eyes. He was just trying to protect himself which was respectable given what happened between them.

Arthur smiled but it wavered. He felt huge relief and a surge of deep affection towards him but also felt immensely guilty and horrible. He left the only creature that made him happy in that way and Eames didn't hate him like he should.

Arthur found his last bag and piled it and the PASIV all neatly on the cart. Eames was watching him looking lost and trying to hide the hurt in his eyes, so much so like when Arthur turned him down all those years ago in his hotel corridor.

Arthur took a deep breath and darted his attention to any possible security in the room. After he found that they weren't being watched he whipped out his small moleskin notebook that he kept in his jacket, scribbling Eames a note, smothering his grin. Eames was hoisting another piece of luggage off the carousel and when he set it down Arthur sought the forger's hand, squeezing it, placing the note inside, giving him a little smile and winked. Eames looked shocked and intrigued but Arthur left quickly, taking his cart before the other man could seek him out or ask him anything.

He paid an elderly Indian man handsomely to watch his cart and gave him other specific instructions (he was happy he remembered to convert some money to American dollars before leaving Sydney).

He entered the bathroom and splashed water on his face never feeling more right about anything in his whole life. He smiled a smile that was purely genuine. He almost didn't recognize himself.

"What are you so happy about?" He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, shooting him a smoldering look.

Arthur turned to face the man he summoned to the bathroom.

"You," he shot him a smoldering look right back.

He made for a stall, farthest from the door and motioned for Eames to follow. Arthur had never seen that kind of elation on his face before as he followed him. He barely got the door shut before he grasped at the older man's collar and was melting into him, their lips dissolving into one another's in a fiercely passionate kiss filled with longing. He felt just like he remembered him, like all the endless day dreams he had of him that distracted him while he should have been working and the dreams at night when he should have been thinking of someone else. There was no one else. He was amazing and smelled wonderful, he felt like he was home

Arthur couldn't repress the moans and sighs that released from his body when Eames grazed it, when his blowjob lips found his neck and sucked; he clasped at his hair and released everything that he had ever pent up feeling immensely good.

"God, Eames, I am so sorry," he murmured in between sweet kisses and caresses.

"I'm not going anywhere this time. I belong to you," Arthur grazed his earlobe, pulling and sucking, remembering that Eames loved that. Eames released a low growl.

Eames traced a finger slowly down his jaw bone, a familiar and passionate gesture. "I had thoughts of having Cobb assassinated but I figured you two were close and you would be devastated especially after losing Mal. I figured you would come back eventually. I wished it was sooner rather than later."

The elderly Indian man did a good job at keeping people out of the bathroom, telling them there was a bodily fluid accident and that it was being cleaned. Arthur knew they wouldn't have much time but would have the rest of their lives after they left the airport.

They stayed in the stall for as long as they dared, the both of them making up for lost time.

* * *

A week or so later Arthur phoned Cobb from his New York apartment, wanting to hear his voice, Eames trying to distract him by kissing his neck, trying to pull him back into bed. He enjoyed catching up with his friend and hearing the squeals of laughter from his sweet children in the background. Cobb was pleased to hear that Arthur and Eames had reconnected. Arthur gave his man a small and silent kiss as in affirmation while listening to Cobb. Eames tried to take it farther but Arthur pushed him away playfully, blushing.

Cobb became serious then and Arthur was all ears.

"Do you remember the Simon job and I told you Eames was a conflict of interest for you?"

Eames was massaging his neck; his talented thumbs deep into his flesh making Arthur melt. Arthur poked at him to stop. Arthur was a little alarmed at Cobb's sudden question as it came completely out of left field.

"Yes I remember," Eames kissed his shoulder.

"I lied Arthur. That night when I took you home from the Paris bar you never told me that you were in love with Eames. You never told me most of that stuff I said but you did tell me you thought he hated you and you did cry and have that look in your eye. I assumed all the rest. I'm sorry but I'm really not at the same time because it helped you realize you're true feelings and you've never sounded happier. Do you hate me for it?"

Arthur was confused and stunned. It was a lot to digest. Eames felt him stiffen and shot him a questioning, concerned look. He was smooth, playboy, younger looking Eames again, insisting that Arthur cut his hair and shave him again, saying he missed it terribly. Both of them loved reliving the experience. Arthur shook his head at his partner and Eames backed off.

"No, I don't," and he found he really didn't. Cobb may have lied but he was hiding his true feelings that everyone apparently knew about except him. Arthur looked into Eames' grayish blue eyes deeply as if to confirm his beliefs and the forger smiled, begging him with his eyes to get off the phone; he wanted his alone time with him.

He couldn't imagine his life without him and almost felt sick at the knowledge of what if Cobb hadn't lied? Even with Eames being taken hostage, would that have been enough to awaken him to his true feelings? He certainly wouldn't have risked his life to make a trade for him. Would he have had enough nerve to visit him in the hospital? He probably wouldn't have taken him home from the hospital either or ended up kissing him for the first time in his hotel bathtub. He most certainly wouldn't have stayed with him in his suite, wrapped up in his love. It was like a domino effect of great experiences and memories, experiences he never would have gotten to have if Cobb wouldn't have shocked him into his own feelings, rattled him and shaken him up-fueling him.

Cobb was speaking but Arthur was only half listening, staring at his lover, distracted.

"Cobb, thank you. You're right; we both got what we wanted." He sensed Cobb's confusion about being interrupted and cut off but didn't comment. They would have a longer talk about it some other time.

He said his hurried goodbyes and when he hung up Eames immediately pounced on him, telling him he had a surprise for him. Arthur hated surprises.

Eames scooped Arthur up playfully and practically bounded to the bathroom and before he could tell him to stop he dumped the younger man into the bathtub all ready full of water to his surprise. Arthur should have been angry but he wasn't. Eames laughed, stripped down and entered the tub with him.

After a long intimate, passionate time Arthur was looking absentmindedly at Eames' hand marveling that the burn scar was prominently still there. Eames noticed his fascination with his scar.

"It was bad. Sometimes they say the body won't let go of something when it goes through something traumatic."

"But your other injuries healed. Your other scars are all faded."

"I was talking about when you left Arthur. That burn reminded me of you and I thought I would never see you again after you left Paris. Maybe now it can heal."

Arthur absolutely loved him for that statement.

"Can you shag me in your current condition?"

Eames laughed and gave him his best, devilish smile. "Oh yes, let me show you."

And he did. Arthur again was never happier and he could swear that Eames' scar had faded slightly after.

-Fin-

* * *

**A/N: Better ending? Worse ending? Mad/pleased with Cobb for lying? Reviews are love especially now that this story is over and I want to know what you guys think :)**


End file.
